Of Forgetfulness and Forgiveness
by The World of My Creation
Summary: Modern. John can't seem to figure out what he forgot, but when he remembers, will even the help of his children help her forgive him? ONE-SHOT.


**Of Forgetfulness and Forgiveness**

A _North and South_ fan-fiction

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**A/N: A nice short story to start off the year! Happy New Year everyone!**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own "North and South."**_

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It had been one week and yet she still did not want to speak to him.

Of course she only spoke to him when it was necessary, like when she needed him to pick up the kids from school. Or to remind him that it was his turn to take out the trash.

But nothing more.

And with each day that passed he felt like a little bit of him died. Yeah, it was that bad.

But, come on, it wasn't like he had done anything wrong really. At least not to him.

"_Good morning," she whispered in his ear and snuggled close to him._

_He only smiled, he loved it when they stayed late in bed, just cuddling. At this point in their marriage they were satisfied with just that._

It had been an ordinary day. He had taken Robert to baseball practice, and she had gone with Jillian to gymnastics. Everything had been fine until then. But where had he gone wrong?

"_So how was practice Robert?" she asked their seven-year-old son, who could talk about nothing more than baseball and Pokémon. _

"_It was awesome!" young Robert told his mother without looking up from his Nintendo DS where he was currently engaged in battling Bug Catcher Bill's Butterfree._

"_The coach said that he's letting Rob pitch first for the next game," he said from his spot on the floor where he was playing Candy Land with their five-year-old daughter, Jillian._

"_Is that so? And how does Robert feel about that?"_

"_Awesome!" Rob answered._

"_Awesome? Is that all you can say nowadays?" his mother put her crocheting down and placed one hand on either side of her growing belly._

"_Yup," was Rob's simple rejoinder._

"_So, um, should I call Aunt Shaw and see if she can watch the kids for tonight?" she turned to ask her husband._

"_No, I don't think that's necessary, we'll watch them," he said, putting one chip into a column._

"_Oh, okay then," she placed one hand on her belly pensively before returning to her crocheting; the sweater was just beginning to take shape._

"_I win! I win! I win!" little Jillian stood up and started jumping up and down, ecstatic that she had beat her father at something._

"_Yes you did," he smiled as he watched Jillian run over to her mother._

"_I win mommy, I beat daddy!"_

"_You _won_, and congratulations," she stroked Jillian's black hair. Everyone said she looked just like her father, and she did, she was just a little miniature girl version of him._

Well there was nothing wrong there, just them, enjoying the afternoon. Somewhere he must have done something wrong, because by the time they had gone to bed she was already mad at him.

"_And I told Nick, I told him, that if he doesn't ask her soon enough, someone else will beat him to the punch," he said as he pulled up the covers to their bed as she braided her hair for bed._

"_Hmm," was her only response._

"_I'm sure he'll do it though, he's lonely now that Maria has gone off to college," he sat in bed, staring at his wife who with each year that passed seemed only to get more beautiful. And with the knowledge that she was going to give him another child, he couldn't be happier._

But apparently, _she_ could. That was where he was confused.

"_Yes, well good for him," she slipped into the covers and turned off the lights. But when he reached over to wrap his arm around her, she stiffened up._

"_Is something wrong? Did I do something?" he questioned._

"_Did you _do_ something? Ha, more like you _didn't_," she shrugged his arm off, her words hurting him more than her actions._

"_What are you talking about? I don't remember not doing something that I was supposed to do," he sat up in bed to try to see her face in the darkness._

"_Nothing, I'm not talking about anything. If you don't know then I can't help you. Good night," she tugged at the covers, but before she disappeared underneath them he managed to catch a glistening of a tear from the moonlight that came in through the window. _

And that had been exactly one week ago. Frankly, he thought it was a little too much. To hold a grudge for that long? It was unreasonable, especially after being married for, what, nine years. Or was it ten now?

Had they celebrated their anniversary yet? It was around this time right? Right?!

He bolted to their nearest calendar.

Today was the 26th, so then it had been the 19th. The 19th of December.

Oh shit.

He had forgotten their tenth anniversary.

He could kick himself.

How could he have forgotten?

"Fu—" he began, but then he saw Rob looking up from his Nintendo DS for once, "—dge. Fudge."

"Is something wrong dad?" Rob asked.

"No."

"Then how come mom won't talk to you?"

"She does talk to me," he defended himself, but just then Jillian came into the room.

"Mommy says for me to tell you that you need to take care of dinner tonight because she doesn't feel good and is going to lie down," Jillian said in one breath before flashing her dad a smile, content that she had remembered everything.

Rob just gave him a look that said 'I told you so.'

Little kids, always speaking the truth. "Um, well you see son, women, they don't like it when you forget about things," he said, running a hand through his hair and taking a seat on the floor next to Rob. Jillian then sat on his lap.

"What kind of things?"

He was half-relieved that he didn't get Rob's typical 'Why' question. "You know, things like birthdays, stuff on the grocery list, where your socks are, _anniversaries_… Stuff that 'matter.'"

"What did you forget?" Rob asked, suddenly finding the subject really interesting, he even closed his game.

"Our anniversary," he groaned.

"Is that bad?" Jillian chimed in.

"Well considering your mother sent her little messenger" he poked Jillian's tummy "then I would say so."

"Whatcha gonna do?" Rob asked.

"Are you gonna send her flowers?"

"Uh…"

"Are you gonna buy her chocolates?"

"Are you gonna write her a poem?"

"Where are you kids getting these things from?" he asked after his kids bombarded him with questions which now seemed like very good suggestions.

"Nowhere," they chorused. He made a mental note to see what they were watching on TV.

"How does pizza sound for dinner?" he asked his kids and they nodded their heads eagerly. Yes, he could use their advice to his favor.

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The kids were tucked away in bed and she was washing the dishes. Her sweater was rolled up to her elbows and her hair was held up in an untidy bun, but she still looked beautiful.

She was humming something that he couldn't make out but it sounded sweet and sad. She was too engrossed in washing that she didn't hear him come into the kitchen.

He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her growing abdomen.

"Ah!" she said in surprise, before trying to move out of his grip, but he would have none of it, "I could have broken something. Please, let me go, I have to finish this."

"Nonsense," he whispered into her neck before kissing the back of her neck. Under his lips he could feel her shiver, and he knew that he was breaking her resolve.

"Are you going to wash these dishes then?" she whispered so that only he could hear her, but he only nuzzled her neck.

"If you wish," he said before turning her around so that he could look at her properly.

"I do wish it," she said, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck but still not looking at him fully in the face.

"Then your wish is my command," he said, lifting her chin with his hand so that he could look into her eyes. "I love you."

He brought his lips down to meet hers in a soft kiss.

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" she tilted her head to look at him, and he had to resist the urge to kiss her again.

Instead he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, "For forgetting."

She nodded, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he was slightly confused. He was sure he was in the wrong, and she was rarely ever wrong.

"For not forgiving you," she rested her head on his chest.

"Come with me," he said, intertwining their hands as he led them to their bedroom.

"Oh!" she brought her free hand to her mouth as she saw what awaited her.

She smiled and went over to their bed that was covered in red rose petals, a bouquet of chocolate roses lying in the middle, a card next to them.

She picked up the card and looked at the childish scribbling on the front that read her name. She turned to him, "Did they…?"

"Yes, I have to admit that this was their idea," he smiled back at her. "Open it."

She tentatively opened the card. "Roses are red, violets are blue, Mommy we love you and Daddy does too."

"They volunteered, and I'm a horrible poet," he said sheepishly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

She slipped the card back into the envelope and put it back on the bed. She grabbed his hands out from his pockets and sat him on the bed, standing between his legs, his hands finding their place on her waist.

"Am I forgiven?" he looked up into her face.

"Always."

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**A/N: Please review! My new year's resolution is to update more often, yours should be to review! :D Your support is appreciated!**


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